


Scars and Scraps

by UnromanticPoetess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Valki, F/M, Female Loki, Grief, How Loki slept his way to the top, I promise I'll get to Valki, Jeff Goldblum took over this fic, Loki is a sub, Loki is an expensive date, Loki's going through some stuff, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Put the crush on Steve Rogers and shapeshifting and what do you get?, Shapeshifter Loki, Thor: Ragnarok, Thor: Ragnarok spoilers, What Loki did on Sakaar, frostmaster, fun with shapeshifting, mentioned Loki/Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnromanticPoetess/pseuds/UnromanticPoetess
Summary: Loki lands on Sakaar and is much better at working the system than Thor. This is eventually going to pair Loki and Valkyrie, but the Grandmaster swooped in and swept Loki off his feet a bit. They bond over luxury, ruling people, and sex.I've noticed a trend in Frostmaster fics of drugging/non-con/etc. I like those fics as well, but this one's going to be softer than that, just because I like the Grandmaster's and Loki's dynamics. My main OTP is Loki with Valkyrie, but he's going to have to work harder at that relationship.There will be smut... just not in the first chapter.





	1. Scrap

It was perhaps fitting that as fucked up a day as Loki was having would end on the biggest garbage pile he’d ever seen.

Loki laid on his back, trying not to breathe in the smell too deeply while still trying to catch his breath. That morning he’d been excitedly preparing for the performance of The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard. Then Thor had found him out, a second-rate sorcerer had imprisoned him, their father had died, their newly-revealed sister had broken Mjolnir and had followed them on the Bifrost…

He realized he was hyperventilating and tried desperately to gain control.

First Frigga. Then Odin. Then surely Thor and everyone else he knew. They were all gone, and he was on a junkpile.

When the scavengers approached him, asking if he was a fighter or food, he gave them no room for confusion. He struck them down, evading every attempt they made to capture him. He fought through the night, and then a day, and then another night, venting his rage on the unending, persistent scavengers.

* * *

 

By the end of the second day, Loki was bleeding from several wounds, and his clothes were in tatters. Worse still, he was starving. He’d stolen a canteen from a fallen foe and was trying to portion out the vile stuff, but his strength was finally flagging, and his magic was failing him.

He killed one last foe and sat on a piece of broken machinery, not much caring if any of the falling debris finally ended it all. He drank, toasting the dead bitterly, and wondered if he’d rate entrance to Valhalla. He closed his eyes when he heard another ship engine. This was it.

“Oi!” a voice came from behind him. “Feel like sharing that?”

He turned his head to see a woman staggering toward him. She was holding an empty bottle and obviously drunk, but she was steady enough on her feet for Loki to recognize a warrior’s practiced gait. And she was the first person on this miserable planet who didn’t look ready to cannibalize him.

“If you can stomach it,” he said, handing her the flask.

She emptied it in seconds and made a face, and then as an afterthought threw her bottle on the ground, where it shattered instantly.

“You want a ride out of here?” she said, motioning back to her ship. It was a one-man fighter with a small cargo hold, reassuringly different from the interlocking cargo carriers of the cannibals. She smirked. “Or would you rather die out here?”

Loki took a breath and tried to get to his feet as steadily as possible. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.”

It wasn’t until they were flying to a large city that looked like it had grown from the surrounding junk that Loki twigged that something might be wrong. He was sitting in the cargo hold, bracing his back against the bulkhead and trying to stay upright when she finally broke the silence over the radio.

“Scrapper-142, reporting in. Got a new find for the boss, but I might need to stop in the med bay first. Can you tell him I’m coming?” The woman waited for acknowledgment and clearance, and then put the radio away.

There was nothing about what she said that he liked.

“Scrapper-142,” he said cautiously. “Is that a name, or is it a designation?”

She looked down at him, her eyes watery and red from drink. She cocked her head. “Only name you need to know,” she said.

“Would that make me scrap?”

Scrapper-142 laughed and slapped her knee. “I wondered when you’d catch on.”

“And I don’t suppose I could offer you anything to let me go.”

142 looked at him blearily. “You got anything beyond that flask of rat piss you already gave me?”

Loki wasn’t at his best, but he wasn’t without resource. He had a few things for a rainy day stashed in some pocket dimensions, but the problem was he was too tapped out, physically and magically, to retrieve them. He also doubted he could conjure anything that would impress the woman who he now realized was a slaver.

“Thought not,” 142 muttered at his silence.

“I can’t get anything at this moment,” Loki said. He opened his mouth to say more, wondering if he could leverage the fact that he was a god, or the rightful king of Asgard, but she cut him off.

“Listen, before you start trying to bargain, let me lay it down for you, and just be silent and grateful that I’m in a charitable mood.”

For once, Loki held his tongue. If she insisted on giving him information, he wasn’t going to object.

“You’re on Sakaar, personal kingdom and playground of the Grandmaster.” She gestured emphatically, and the ship banked to the left, banging Loki’s head against the bulkhead. “He’s older than sin, just as powerful, and owns everything and everyone, including you and me, on this planet. If you’re lucky and play nice, you might avoid dying in the arena… or just dying,” she said with a shrug. “The Grandmaster likes his public executions.”

“And you’re lucky,” Loki said.

“I play nice,” 142 countered. “The Grandmaster’s vain. He likes to be flattered, but that’s also risky. He doesn’t like to be lied to for long.”

They were almost to a docking bay. The totem-like building that dominated the landscape was decorated with large faces. Warrior’s faces, obviously in honor, or perhaps just as advertisement. There was one face that made Loki’s eye twitch, but he was too exhausted to remember clearly.

“It might be the possible head injury,” Loki said, “but I’m having a hard time understanding how this is charity.”

The woman held up a blue glowing disk. “First, I could have put this on you. It’s an obedience disk, and it basically hijacks your entire nervous system. Ever been struck by lightning? Imagine it like that.” She looked curiously at Loki, and he realized he must have been making a face at the mention of lightning, but she went on. “Second, you just held off scavengers in one of the most hostile terrains in Sakaar for what looks like days. I think you deserve a leg up after that.”

“Are you saying you’ll put in a good word for me?”

“Nope!” 142 said. “I’ll get you patched up and get paid. Then you’re on your own.”

They had docked; the cargo area was tilting into a gangplank, so Loki got to his feet, trying to preserve as much dignity as possible. He smiled tightly at 142, who was hovering just close enough to remind him who was boss, and took one step. That was the last thing he remembered before falling flat on his face on the ground.

142 rolled her eyes and sighed. “Could someone get me a stretcher!”

 

* * *

 

  
As Loki slowly regained consciousness, he realized he was reclined on a couch, shirtless, and that the pounding in his head was not the result of a headache, but instead dance beat that seemed to permeate the air. Through slitted lids, he noted a few groups dancing in a bright open space, but most of them were simply bobbing their heads and going about their business.

A dour woman’s face suddenly loomed right above Loki. He involuntarily flinched back, and her humorless face split into a grin. “It’s awake.”

Loki opened his eyes fully, now that feigning sleep was a moot point, and slowly sat up. The unpleasant woman who had called him an “it” backed away.

“Oh, great, this is just fine. No, don’t get up. I’m flattered, but really I don’t want you to fall on your face again, okay?”

Loki’s gaze followed the woman as she joined a tall man at a turntable, the one who had just finished talking and was currently grinning at him. At one glance, Loki could tell this was the fabled Grandmaster. And despite the flamboyant robe and carefully applied eyeliner, being in his presence was enough like being in Thanos’s court to make Loki sweat.

“So, has it got a name?” the Grandmaster said, annoyingly not directed at Loki but at a bouncy and delighted Scrapper-142, who had returned from the bar with drinks for herself and the Grandmaster.

“None that he told me,” she said. She clinked glasses with the Grandmaster, and his eyes twinkled at her cheekiness. “I could make one up. Maybe Scrap?”

Loki finally found his tongue. “That won’t be necessary. My name is Loki of…” he paused, then recovered, “just Loki. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grandmaster.”

“Oh, I like that. Loki of just Loki. Sort of rolls off the tongue. Let’s have a closer look.” The Grandmaster swept around his turntable and approached Loki, studying him intently.

Loki tried not to tense up or look uncomfortable while the Grandmaster looked him over. That was difficult, as he was now in the process of being inspected and sold. This would not do. He would have to remedy this situation as soon as could, but first he had to make sure the situation turned in his favor. Therefore, he waited.

The Grandmaster’s hand ghosted over the scar on his chest, and Loki flinched at that one. He’d indeed been stabbed by the Kursed in Svartalfheim—that had not been a lie—but as soon as Thor left him he’d been able to heal the wound and escape to Asgard. It had never healed to his liking, as most of his wounds had. The Grandmaster noticed the flinch and pulled back.

“There’s a story there,” the Grandmaster said, his voice softening. “That’s the thing about Sakaar. Everybody comes here with all these stories and scars, but they don’t matter now. You’re home now, and we all love each other here. I love you, Scrapper-142 there loves you, Topaz loves you, don’t you love Loki of just Loki, Topaz?”

The older woman, Topaz, folded her arms. “He’d make a pretty entertaining death in the arena.”

“Well, that’s not nice at all! Why would you say that?” the Grandmaster looked vaguely offended, but the patter seemed familiar to the two of them.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” 142 interjected. “He just survived days in the wasteland. I think he could survive at least a few days in the arena, if you think he’s a contender.”

The Grandmaster looked delighted at the idea, and Loki glared at 142. So much for putting in a good word for him. She practically advertised him as an arena slave. She smirked back at him in response.

The Grandmaster snapped his fingers at Topaz. “Pay the lady. Three million.”

Loki had no idea what the currency was on Sakaar, whether he was being sold for a king’s ransom or a song, but he saw an opportunity. “If I may be so bold…”

The room froze. Scrapper-142, who’d been holding out her hand for the currency, looked shocked, and Topaz let her hand waver in midair while she stared in distaste at Loki.

The Grandmaster, however, looked intrigued. “I don’t see a lot of boldness in my recent finds. Go ahead, ah, and be bold.”

Loki had not been given permission to get up, and had been gently discouraged from doing so. Still, he used what he had, stretching out on the couch in nonchalance. “I do not mean to question the Grandmaster’s judgment, but he does not quite have all the facts, or else he would not have tried to buy royalty for such a paltry sum.” He frowned in distaste.

The partygoers still looked on uncomfortably, but the Grandmaster actually laughed at that. “Someone’s just full of surprises. Royalty, huh? That’s… ah… that’s certainly worth more. Another three for the title, and one for the sass. That makes seven. A princely sum, wouldn’t you say?”

The room relaxed and laughed at the Grandmaster’s pun. Topaz glowered; she seemed to be the only one allowed to not flatter the Grandmaster and get away with it. Scrapper-142 narrowed her eyes at Loki. He knew that look. She was trying to figure out his intentions, and was possibly realizing that she was in his debt now, if she cared about such things.

The Grandmaster already looked bored with the proceedings, so 142 beat a hasty retreat and Loki was actually relieved to be shown out of the room, even if he was being led to slave lodgings and the arena. He considered escaping, but he wasn’t yet recovered, and he didn’t know where he’d go. He didn’t have enough information. Better to stay put and wait.

 

* * *

 

  
Unfortunately, staying put and waiting meant that Loki was left alone with his thoughts. That never worked well.

As soon as he was put in the arena slave quarters, he’d been greeted by the de facto leader, Korg. Korg was a Kronan, kind and harmless, cheerfully telling about his imprisonment because of a failed rebellion. Loki gathered what information he needed about the arena. He would be put through some preliminary matches, as he was untested. The Champion was apparently not fighting the next day, so Korg blithely concluded that, if Loki could hold his own, there might be no fatalities.

The quarters were disgusting and lacked even the most basic amenities, though he could tell that there was enough power swirling around to prevent any jailbreaks. It reminded him unpleasantly of his time in the cell in Asgard, only without the luxuries his mother had secured for him. Supper was a bowl of what looked like thin stew, and Loki only ate it because the sole thing in his stomach was sour whiskey and whatever nutrients they’d given him when he’d passed out. Once fortified, he concentrated enough to conjure a basic tunic so he wouldn’t have to lean on the graffitied walls with his bare skin.

He sat as far away as possible from the other gladiators, and they had the decency to give him room, probably thinking that he was a terrified first-time prisoner. He closed his eyes and meditated, allowing his mind and body to recover. He would need every scrap of magic at his disposal if he was not only going to survive the next day, but make sure he never returned to this place.

“I love you, my sons.”

Loki’s eyes flew open, and he whipped his head around, his father’s words ringing in his ears. Korg smiled kindly at him and gave him a thumbs up.

Loki turned away and settled back down. Odin was not there. He would never be there again. Loki felt his chest hollow out and get heavy at the same time. He closed his eyes and all he could see was his father’s body dissolving into fire sparkles.

This was ridiculous. His father was dead, and he hadn’t even spoken to him in years. In their last real conversation, years ago, Odin shouted to the entire court that Loki’s birthright had been to die on a frozen rock as a baby, right before sending him in chains to prison. Did he think that a quick apology in a field in Norway made up for…?

Odin didn’t think anymore, though. He was dead. All Loki had was memory and lost opportunity, and now instead of preparing for the next day, he was reliving his father’s death: every word, the rumpled clothes, the mentions of Frigga, Thor’s expression, his body dissolving over and over…

Loki had killed his biological father and tried to murder his own people, but he never knew Laufey, the man who had abandoned him as a baby. His mother Frigga had died, and he felt her loss every day, but killing the man who’d killed her had actually given him a perverse sense of closure, a closure he’d almost been denied by not being allowed to attend her funeral. He’d gotten used to the pain. It had become a part of him.

But this death… it was a fresh and open wound, filling him with grief and rage and helplessness. Thor had immediately blamed him and would have taken it out on him, but Loki was even denied that. He didn’t truly blame himself. Odin was the All-Father. Once he’d broken Loki’s spell, if he’d wanted to return to Asgard on a wave of righteous fury, he would have. He’d chosen to remain in exile. He’d chosen to die, and now everything Loki had said to him came back to haunt him, as well as everything he didn’t say.

And if Thor was dead, too…

If the other prisoners heard any choked sobs, they were too tactful to say anything. They told stories into the night, and Loki allowed the hum of their voices to calm him, drawing him back to the here and now. He wasn’t in Norway. He wasn’t in Asgard. He was in Sakaar, and he wasn’t dead. That would have to do for now.

 

* * *

 

  
“Now, hold still. My hands aren’t as steady as they used to be.”

Oh, Hel, no.

Loki knew he needed to preserve his energy for the arena, so he’d allowed himself to be shepherded through the gladiator orientation process, which seemed to consist of choosing weapons (he’d found some nicely balanced daggers), clothing (the leather mail he now wore was disgusting, but it offered more protection than his tunic), and face paint (a red streak across both Loki’s eyes, which made his eyes sting). But Loki would be damned again if some old fuck was going to cut his hair.

So, the old man with the frankly unnecessary scissor hands was cutting an illusion of Loki’s head a foot away. As soon as he was done, Loki cast an illusion on his own head to match the severe buzz cut. He’d been modifying his appearance for most of his life, so it wasn’t much of a drain.

He was not put out first, so he was able to watch the matches from a grated bench area with the other gladiators. Korg was out first, and he was obviously a fan favorite. He waved to the crowd and hammed up the fights, occasionally stumbling unnecessarily or playing around with his opponents. He was the warm-up act, and the crowd laughed and cheered as he tapped an opponent’s shoulder or tried to lasso a giant dog.

He always won, though. He just drug it out. Loki suddenly had more appreciation for someone he’d pegged as dimwitted. He’d carved out a use for himself, and that seemed the key to survival in this savage world.

By the time it was Loki’s turn, he had a plan, and most of the outcomes didn’t involve his death.

He walked out, purposefully leaving the helmet that smelled of stale sweat on the bench. The crowd’s cheers were tepid as they were introduced to Loki (thankfully without the “of just Loki” added), the new contender. The audience was obviously used to “new contenders,” most of whom probably died in the first few minutes.

Loki smiled. He had a plan and an audience. He was finally in his element.

His first opponent was an Asgardian Bilgesnipe. It was obviously meant to make short work of Loki, but the only danger he was facing was losing focus because of nostalgia. He felt himself falling into the same patterns he’d developed as a child, when he and Thor would kill any of these scaly, antlered creatures that came too close to a village. Dodge the antlers, slice the beast on the soft underside, dodge its death throes. The fight was indeed over far too quickly, but not for the reasons the crowd had been expecting.

The cheers became a bit more spirited as the dead beast was pulled into a nearby chute in the arena. Loki did some knife tricks during the awkward pause, warming the crowd to him slowly. By the time his second opponent was announced, Loki was tossing his knives 100 feet in the air and catching them at the last minute.

Another giant beast burst into the arena, this one looking like a Midgardian bear, though with larger claws and an inexplicable pith helmet. Whoever had planned the matches obviously liked the optics of Loki’s relatively small stature next to large beasts. It actually made things easier. Loki smirked and cast the first illusion the audience would be able to see.

The giant bear reared back as he was suddenly surrounded by eight Lokis. The bear kept lunging for each one, and Loki made sure he never lunged for the real one. That was because he was standing several feet away from the fight, reacting as if he were one of the spectators. He mimed directing the doubles, and winced dramatically as each were tackled. As the crowd realized what was happening, they started laughing and roaring with approval.

The bear finally saw him, and Loki made to run as the bear charged. Instead, he rolled out of the way and sliced the bear’s throat as it chased his double. The bear writhed in its death throes, and Loki tossed a dagger into its brain to end it.

He’d meant to drag the match out more, to give the crowd what it wanted. But this wasn’t Loki’s favorite sport. Raised an Asgardian, he loved true tests of mettle and skill between warriors. He’d even participated in the games, and he’d always enjoyed outsmarting and frustrating the opponents who relied on their fists and frontal attacks. He’d practically reduced Volstagg to tears once.

Volstagg had been with the Bifrost when Hela went through. He and Fandral were probably dead.

Loki bowed to the cheers, anything to keep his mind from his sister laying waste to Asgard. He finally spotted the Grandmaster in the most opulent viewing box. He blew him a kiss, and the Grandmaster pretended to catch it.

The third opponent was not a beast, but a warrior, a 7-foot giant of a man, with a helmet that completely covered his face. Now, this was more what Loki was used to, but he still needed to keep up the show. This opponent didn’t look like one who would brook much foolishness.

The opponent charged, and Loki dodged. He rolled out of the way, creating several doubles as he went. The warrior went for the last double, but Loki was prepared for that, as he’d stopped somewhere in the middle. He kicked at the warrior, who overbalanced and fell to the ground in a clatter.

That gave Loki time to try his boldest trick yet, the one he knew would either get him out of the arena permanently or get him killed. Possibly both. While the warrior wasn’t looking, Loki shapeshifted into the Grandmaster.

There were startled gasps and confused yells from the stands—the crowd was obviously wondering whether to cheer or remain silent, for fear of offending the Grandmaster by egging on this upstart. Loki’s opponent was raising a sword when stopped, trembling all over, and dropped to his knees.

Loki bowed to the crowd, who was beginning to warm up to the act again, and then shifted back into his normal form and bowed to the Grandmaster, whose expression was unreadable from so far off.

He was starting to wonder what to do next when a crushing blow to his head answered that question. His last thought before blacking out was that he should have worn the damn helmet.

 

* * *

 

  
Loki’s first thought upon awakening was that he was back in his father’s room in Asgard. The room smelled of clean sheets and scented oils, and the pain in his head could easily be attributed to a hangover rather than blunt force trauma. For a few glorious moments, the past few days disappeared, and he was back home.

Then he opened his eyes, felt the pain from an uncomfortable night’s sleep and days of near continuous battle. Rather than the gold of his home, he was greeted by the red and white patterns of Sakaar.

He felt oil poured on his back, and strong fingers working at his shoulder muscles. A face loomed into view, one of the more beautiful party-goers he’d seen with the Grandmaster. He’d gotten the impression that she and a near identical woman were the Grandmaster’s accessories.

Her face split into a grin. “You’re awake,” she said in a surprisingly deep, clipped voice. “The Grandmaster will be so happy. He will want to see you, but not before my sister is through with you.”

Loki glanced up as much as he was able, and the identical woman beamed down at him, slowly working out each knot of tension in his back.

“I assume I won’t be headed to my execution,” Loki said, “unless I’m being tenderized right now.”

Both women laughed, and Loki joined them, partly out of gratefulness to just be alive, partly out of giddiness that it looked like his plan was actually working. He’d proven himself to be a disaster in the arena, but with far more possibilities in other areas. He was also slowly becoming closer to the Grandmaster, and that was his primary objective.

“We do not know what to do with you,” the first woman said. “Perhaps you have some suggestions?”

“I might have a few,” Loki said, “if your sister doesn’t turn my brain to mush. I did not get your names earlier.”

The woman smiled good-humoredly. “Few people ask for those. My name is Jade, and my sister is Agate.”

“Related to Topaz?” Loki said, seeing the pattern.

“Only by relation to the Grandmaster,” Agate said. Her voice was lighter, more melodious. “It becomes hard to remember your real name. Not all of us made a name for ourselves, Loki of just Loki.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I misspoke once and it’s going to follow me around forever, isn’t it?”

“The Grandmaster is mocking you for withholding the truth,” Jade said. “Do not worry. He only punishes people if the falsehoods get too serious.”

Loki tried not to think about what the Grandmaster might think was punishment. As he felt a cloth wipe the excess oil from his back, he carefully sat up in the bed. That’s when he realized he was completely naked.

Agate was unconcernedly putting away her massage oils, and Jade had wandered over to a rack of clothes to look them over critically.

Loki took a measured breath. “Why am I nude?”

Agate laughed. “We bathed you. You were disgusting.”

“Don’t worry,” Jade responded to the look on Loki’s face. “We were entirely professional.” She pulled out a dark violet robe, cast a critical look at Loki, shook her head, and began looking again. “That stunt you pulled. In the arena. Were you trying to incite a riot?”

“It was not my intention. I was merely trying to get the Grandmaster’s attention.”

Jade laughed. “Well, you did.” She pulled out a green suit. “Green is certainly your color, but not his, and right now green is too tied to the arena. What do you usually wear?”

“Black, mostly.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all,” Jade said. “The Grandmaster loves color. Here.” She tossed him a golden wrap-around tunic and black leggings. “This will do until the Grandmaster takes you shopping.”

“You’ll like shopping,” Agate added. She had ducked into the bathroom, and was now reentering the room with a laundry bag that she was holding at arm’s length. “The Grandmaster will know he’s awake, Jade. We can’t dally too much longer.”

Loki got the hint and pulled on the clothes. They were much lighter than the leathers he usually wore, less constricting than the suits he wore on Midgard. They also weren’t overtly sexual. More neutral than anything. They still didn’t know what to do with him. Loki still had some options to work with.

“When will he be here?” Loki said, making to run fingers through his hair before he remembered that he’d cast an illusion to make him have short hair. At their perplexed looks, Loki gestured to the large and luxurious bedroom. “This is his room, isn’t it?”

Jade and Agate laughed. “Oh, no, honey, this is your room,” Jade said. “For the Grandmaster, we go to the top floor.”

 

* * *

 

  
The elevator opened to a spacious suite, the entire dome above showing the sky. The Grandmaster sat on a divan at the far end of the room, watching the world he owned.

“You know what’s beautiful about Sakaar?” the Grandmaster asked abruptly.

Loki smiled. “I can name a few things,” he said suggestively.

The Grandmaster smiled lazily at him over his shoulder, not turning from the window. Loki made to walk toward him, but instead stopped at the bar and poured both of them some drinks. He offered the amber liquid to the Grandmaster and then made a show of drinking first, to show it was safe. He’d been in court all his life. This dance was second nature.

The Grandmaster gave an odd laugh at the drink and the fact that Loki had settled in on the divan. It was almost a staccato barking sound. The Grandmaster was odd, but he was definitely attractive, as well as one of the most powerful people Loki had ever met. And so far this one wasn’t imprisoning or torturing him. At least, not seriously.

“The beautiful thing about Sakaar, present company excluded,” the Grandmaster continued, “is that there’s always something new. I’ve been here for… ah… let’s say millions of years, and every day there’s something surprising. Like you, my friend. I can call you my friend?”

Loki found this tentative approach almost charming, though he heard the steel behind the words. The Grandmaster liked to be in control, yet he also liked to think that everyone was around him willingly. It was either a dangerous kind of self-delusion or a carefully plotted out social control. The man was brilliant or mad or both.

“I hope so,” Loki said. “I had hoped we could become more.”

“And you continue to be bold! I love it!” the Grandmaster said. “You’re a man of many talents, I can tell that. You displayed quite a few in your… ah… your show. You need direction, though. Can’t have you impersonating me and causing all kinds of… what’s the word I’m looking for…”

“Mischief?” Loki said, keeping his voice innocent.

The Grandmaster pointed to his nose. “That’s the one. Idle hands and everything. But if you’re good… What do you want to be here, Loki?”

“I can be many things, as you’ve seen. I can take many shapes. I can’t be you, I promise you that,” Loki said apologetically. “But what would you like me to be?”

The Grandmaster reached his hand out to stroke Loki’s face, a surprisingly tender gesture. His hand wandered to the close-cropped hair, stroking the spikes. “I regret putting you in the arena. You’re still beautiful, but…”

“You think I let them cut my hair?” Loki laughed, and under the Grandmaster’s hands his hair grew to its full length.

“Well, you’re just full of surprises,” the Grandmaster said, his hands tangling in Loki’s hair.

Loki was prepared for a kiss, and was starting to wonder how he’d slow things down should the Grandmaster become more forceful, but at that moment the Grandmaster abruptly shifted tones. He finished his drink, rose from the divan, and pulled Loki up by his hand. “Shopping! I called ahead, everyone is ready and waiting. That’s nice, what you’re wearing, but I think we can do better.”

 

* * *

 

  
The market they went to was entirely devoid of people besides the merchants and support staff. Apparently the Grandmaster liked to shop in privacy, and Loki didn’t mind that at all.

First, measurements. The tailor working around him with a measuring tape was a reassuringly familiar ritual, and Loki didn’t understand how anyone could wear anything less than bespoke. He said as much to the Grandmaster, who laughed appreciatively. If there were any eye rolls from the support staff, they were safely out of sight.

Next they looked at patterns and materials for the start of a proper wardrobe. The Grandmaster allowed Loki plenty of choice in the matter, only suggesting that he wear plenty of blue. That was apparently significant, as the seamstress’s eyes bugged out and she treated Loki with even more elaborate deference.

Loki chose a few softer outfits for more casual wear, but for his main outfits he chose form-fitting full body leather, with a cape to match. He’s been wearing things like this since childhood, and he felt practically naked without the supple, protective bulk of leather. The Grandmaster looked a bit dubious at Loki’s choice, but Loki reassured him that he wouldn’t regret it. He couldn’t wear green, apparently, but he chose a blue that was as close to teal as he could get it, with purple accents. The clothes would be ready and delivered to his room the next morning.

The Grandmaster had more fun at the next stop, which was to pick out underthings. Amused, Loki let the Grandmaster make most of the decisions. What resulted was a large pile of lace and silk, from thongs to camisoles to corsets, all in a riot of colors. Nothing that looked the least bit functional.

“Don’t worry,” the store clerk said quietly to Loki as she packed up the purchases. “I snuck in some more comfortable things.”

“Thank you.” Loki slipped her a few of the coins the Grandmaster had given him as pocket money. She smirked and pocketed the coins, putting a finger over her lips.

After selecting shoes, hair products, make-up, and perfumes, Loki felt as wrung out as after a full day of battle. The Grandmaster exclaimed and delighted over every item, and Loki thoroughly enjoyed himself, but he was starting to worry that he wouldn’t have the energy to do anything else the Grandmaster wished.

They ended the day on a terrace restaurant overlooking the city. The restaurant was quite empty except for the servers, who silently served them several courses. Loki had to restrain himself from attacking the food, as he’d only had to eat the thin stew from the night before. He’d skipped breakfast, which could be described charitably as lumpy oatmeal. Now, he was being served delicacies, when perversely he would have much preferred a proper Asgardian warrior’s feast. When the Grandmaster left the terrace for a few minutes, Loki wolfed down as many skewers of meat as he could and tipped the service staff who replenished them.

The Grandmaster returned and, instead of rejoining Loki at the table, he wandered over to the edge of the terrace. His mood had obviously shifted. Loki grabbed the Grandmaster’s drink and joined him.

“Bad news?” Loki asked softly.

The Grandmaster smiled sardonically. “You know I love Sakaar.”

“That much is obvious.”

The Grandmaster huffed angrily and gestured out to the city beneath them. “But then… uh… then… the people.” He waved his hands, but didn’t elaborate more. “They love it here, but they, ah, they don’t act like it.”

“The burden of rule,” Loki said, his lips curling up. “You have the perspective these plebeians do not. They flail against your rule, making life more difficult for themselves and everyone else. It’s frustrating, I know.”

The Grandmaster scrutinized Loki, who stared back calmly, sipping his drink. “You know, I actually think you do.” He looked back at the cityscape. “Let’s say… hypothetically, I mean, of course… hypothetically, what would you do to a relative conspiring against you. Let’s say, a cousin.”

Loki took a larger drink. “Family betrayal is always more painful, and rather messy to deal with publicly. It this… hypothetical… case, the delicate approach is best. Send messages promising forgiveness if they turn themselves in, and in the meantime…” He looked at the Grandmaster with a sly smile. “Would you rather perform the execution yourself, or have assassins do the work for you?”

The Grandmaster burst into delighted laughter, and Loki joined in. “I could send the scrappers,” the Grandmaster said. “They always bring me the best finds.” He stroked Loki’s hair for emphasis, tangling his fingers suggestively.

Loki smirked. “If they’re all like 142, they’re a bit… direct. Obvious. Someone who knew they were hunted would be on the lookout for them.”

“Smart,” the Grandmaster said. “The indirect approach… that’s good…”

The Grandmaster’s face was inching closer, and Loki felt the tension between them build. “Sometimes being direct is better, though…”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the Grandmaster murmured, and then they were kissing.

By the Nornes, it was actually fucking romantic. The city around them, lights from passing ships shining off the opalescent aging metal of the buildings, the drinks and the surprisingly tender embrace. The Grandmaster’s hand twisted in Loki’s hair, yet not painfully. Loki grabbed the front of the Grandmaster’s robes, and he was definitely not clinging to him with need. Time worked differently on Sakaar, and Loki wondered if part of that wasn’t the Grandmaster’s influence, because the moments they were kissing seemed to slow to a standstill.

The kiss broke, and Loki was actually short of breath. He leaned in, closing his eyes, as the Grandmaster’s hand stroked the side of his face. He had planned a long seduction, but dammit, the felt good…

“You’re really pale,” the Grandmaster said, pulling away.

Loki huffed impatiently. “I’ve been told. If you don’t want me to be…” he started.

“No, sweetheart, you’re paler than you were… Oh, honey, you’re exhausted, you haven’t rested for days.”

The Grandmaster personally drove back to the building as Loki drowsed in the passenger seat. Loki felt himself being led, not to the Grandmaster’s suite as he’d expected, but back to his own room.

“Rest,” the Grandmaster said as he kissed him outside the door. “Sleep in, and order whatever food you want. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Loki walked into his room after his murmured thanks, a bit stunned and rather grateful. He barely got his shoes off before he fell into bed and slept the first dreamless sleep he’d had in a long time.


	2. A Night at the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki begins his new position in the Grandmaster's court with a night at the opera, and starts working on consolidating his position for more than sex. Loki also doesn't want to deal with his problems right now.
> 
> This chapter contains SEX. Also female!Loki, angry flirting with Valkyrie, badass Loki, multiple orgasms, and over-stimlation.
> 
> I'm using the head canon that blue is for the Grandmaster's favorites.

Loki slept well past midday, and only roused up when his stomach wouldn’t let him sleep any longer. A cursory investigation of the room revealed an intercom that seemed easy to use.

“Yes, Loki.” It was Agate’s voice on the other end. “What can I get you?”

“Food,” Loki said. “A ludicrous amount of it.”

Her bell-like laugh filled the room. “I think I can handle that. Should I send in your packages from yesterday? I did not want to disturb you.”

“I’ll be bathing, so they can leave everything inside the door.”

He cut the channel and went into the bathroom for the first time. It was half as large as the bedroom, with a spacious tub took only a few minutes to fill with hot water and suds. Loki stripped the tunic and leggings off and slipped into the bath. The heat almost made him fall asleep again, but he forced himself to stay awake. He had some planning to do. He’d see the Grandmaster tonight, and while their interactions showed a lot of promise, he wasn’t quite in the position he wanted to be in.

He was, at the moment, the Grandmaster’s new toy. Someone to dress up and play with, but ultimately children tired of their toys and threw them away. He was sure the Grandmaster’s feelings would cool toward him eventually, so he needed something else to preserve his place on Sakaar.

After all, he might not have any place else to go to.

Loki shook his head vigorously, and his hair whipped around him, flinging water over the tub. Sometime during the course of the past few days, he’d decided to pretend that Asgard didn’t exist, that the world outside of Sakaar didn’t exist. If everyone was to be believed, no one left Sakaar anyway. So why not make the place his? He’d done it before, and this time Thor wasn’t there to fuck everything up.

That was convincing enough to be getting on with.

As Loki bathed, he heard shuffling in the bedroom, and he knew his clothing was being delivered. Several minutes later, Agate peeked around the corner, knocking lightly on the doorframe and holding a package.

“I believe your toiletries are in this package,” she said. “Can I leave it here?”

Loki smirked. “You may as well come in. You apparently saw everything yesterday.”

Agate entered the room and opened the package on the counter near the sink, pulling out each item and eyeing them critically. She held up a bottle. “Don’t wear this perfume. The merchant ought to be ashamed for selling it. Its scent changes noticeably with sweat, which can be… unpleasant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He accepted a bottle of shampoo and lathered his hair. In truth, he hadn’t washed up this well in a long time. He’d spent years as Odin, and he hadn’t particularly wanted to see his father naked on a regular basis. He hadn’t realized how greasy he’d let his hair get, so it felt noticeably lighter when he washed the cleanser out.

Agate handed Loki a large towel as he got out. As he dried himself, she pulled out some hair product. “Just a bit of this. I’ll start unpacking your clothing. Your meal awaits.” She bowed rather sardonically, and Loki’s estimation of the woman went up. He didn’t quite know what she was doing, but there was more going on with her than giving massages and fetching breakfast.

Loki finished getting ready hastily and put on a robe. He entered the room to Agate’s laughter, and saw that she was holding up a particularly ridiculous piece of lingerie, a bodysuit that had hearts cut out of it in strategic places.

“You let him buy the lingerie,” she said, tears of laughter in her eyes.

Loki chose to remain amused. “It seemed easier than quarreling.” He eyed the bodysuit she was holding up and shuddered. “I may plan to misplace that one.”

She tossed it aside. “He will have forgotten about it.”

Loki was too hungry to to keep from wolfing down his breakfast, and Agate was too tactful to pay attention. She arranged his new clothing in the large closet, humming to herself.

“Is this one of your responsibilities, Agate?” he asked when he slowed down. “Seeing to me?”

She gave him a sly smile over her shoulder. “The Grandmaster may have asked Jade and I to keep an eye on you. I just like arranging things. I worked on a spa in a leisure planet, a long time ago. I suppose I shouldn’t have taken the job on the yacht that crashed through a portal onto Sakaar, but it’s not so bad. The Grandmaster keeps me on as a style coordinator as well.”

Loki filed that information away, wondering how many people crashed here. “Well, then, if you’re a style coordinator, what would you suggest I wear for tonight?”

Agate started flicking through the various outfits. “Tonight? Opera, so it’s going to be a high-class affair. Something to help him stay awake while those singers are shrieking.” She made a face. “The Grandmaster usually likes his entertainment more entertaining, but he’s been on a sophisticated kick lately. You’ll want to wear blue, of course.”

“Blue is significant,” Loki said.

“I means you’re one of his favorites. It gives you status, but it also tells people not to touch, that you’re just for him. People will be wary of you.”

“People are always wary of me,” Loki said slyly.

Agate laughed. “Oh, Loki, you are so funny. Tell that to Jade. She will get a good laugh.” Her face took on a look of mock seriousness. “I’m sure you’re very dangerous.”

Loki supposed it was difficult to intimidate someone who had just bathed his unconscious body the day before. It also felt refreshing to have people feel disarmed around him. It had been a long time since that had happened.

Agate pulled out a deep blue outfit and frowned. “This dress is very beautiful, and appropriate for tonight, but it’s all wrong for your shape. You don’t have anything to fill up the shaped bodice.”

“Well, I don’t now.” He was well-rested and recovered, so it took a mere thought to shift into his female form. Loki, now a she, took a drink of tea, amused at Agate’s goggling eyes.

“No wonder you’re his favorite,” Agate said, her voice actually betraying awe. “Go like that tonight, and wear this dress. Let me do your makeup… oh, this is going to be such fun!”

Loki laughed. “You really think I should?” She got up and stretched, reveling in a body she hadn’t had the opportunity to use in so long.

“It’s not even a question,” Agate said, leading Loki to the vanity.

By the time Jade dropped by the room, with an invitation and a small device in tow, Loki looked ready for a night of hanging off an important man’s arm at the opera, a much different experience from the last opera she’d attended.

Jade’s eyes went wide, but she seemed used to the unexpected. “Good choice,” she said, handing Loki the card with the invitation on it. “You’ll blend right in. The Grandmaster is expecting you to meet him in his private viewing box. You won’t stay there long. He’ll want to show you off.”

Loki hair was swept up in a sophisticated knot. The blue dress covered some of the more tasteful lingerie. Loki wanted to take things slow, but she wasn’t so foolish as to think that there wouldn’t be sex that night. She packed a small clutch with necessities and the invitation, and then took the device from Jade’s hand. “What’s this?”

“Your account,” Jade said. “The Grandmaster will pay for everything while you’re together, but he understands you need your own resources. Just press that to get your account balance,” she pointed to a panel on the top.

Loki did, and nearly choked. “Why is there nearly four million in here? That’s more than half of what I ended up costing. Is he usually this generous?”

Jade squinted at the balance. “He’s generous with his favorites, but that’s ludicrous. What did you do to him?”

“I just kissed him,” Loki said wonderingly.

Agate whistled. “Must have been some kiss.”

Loki frowned. “Is my name on the account?”

“Of course it is.”

Loki laughed. More than half of what he cost. Of course it was. She wondered when the woman had found out about her change in position.

“What is it, Loki?” Jade said. “If it’s a mistake…”

“It’s no mistake,” Loki said, waving away the concerns with a gesture. “Just someone who didn’t want to be in my debt.” She smirked. She’d have to pay the scrapper a visit sometime. If she cared enough to send the money to Loki, she might prove more intriguing, and useful, than Loki originally thought.

 

* * *

 

  
By the time Loki arrived at the opera, the lobby was already milling with well-dressed people. She gave her invitation to the usher at the door, who directed her to the Grandmaster’s box. It was crowded with people, but the crowd nervously parted for Loki.

It took a minute for the Grandmaster to recognize her, as she’d only briefly turned female for measurements, but when he did, his face lit up.

“Loki, you spoil me, you really do. I mean… stunning. Everyone, this is Loki. Loki, this is… everyone.” He waved his hand irritatedly. “I don’t care. Go, everyone, go have some fun. It’s a party. An… opera party. Do whatever you do at an opera!”

The crowd around the Grandmaster dispersed, and the Grandmaster slipped an arm around Loki’s waist, pulling her to him.

“I hope I’m not late,” Loki said, though she damn well knew she wasn’t.

“You’re just in time to save me from the wolves,” the Grandmaster said. “I mean, we’re here to have fun, and all they want is to ask for things. It’s boring.” He chuckled. “But now that you’re here…”

“You can show me a good time,” she finished for him.

A chime sounded, and the orchestra began playing the overture. The Grandmaster led Loki over to some seats. Loki eschewed the other seat and sat on the Grandmaster’s lap, where they could sip wine and feed each other grapes.

The opera was awful. Loki wasn’t even sure anyone knew what an opera was, as the singing was awkwardly mixed with acrobatics, interpretive dance, and at one point sparklers. Loki tried to look interested, but she saw the Grandmaster’s eyes start to glaze over. Going through a sophisticated phase didn’t necessarily mean you liked it.

Loki pressed herself to the Grandmaster, her lips close to his ear. “You know what I want to do to you right now?”

By the intermission, the Loki had kept up a steady stream of whispered filth, and the Grandmaster was barely breathing. Loki occasionally shifted against his hardening cock, seemingly by accident, and the Grandmaster’s hand hand moved up up her dress to touch her. Loki expected it to escalate to sex pretty soon, but the Grandmaster seemed to prefer to savor the experience. Her face flushed and her words faltered as she felt herself growing wetter until the Grandmaster’s ministrations—it had been a while since she’d felt arousal as a woman.

“And after you, ah, do all that?” the Grandmaster said, moving his hand to her thigh and squeezing.

Loki smirked and shifted to male form. “Then we’ll do it all over again,” he said.

The Grandmaster laughed, and Loki changed back to female form, nipping at the Grandmaster’s ear as she did so.

“Come on,” the Grandmaster as the performance paused. “I’ve got a few people to talk to, and then we can be fashionable by skipping the second act.”

As soon as they entered the lobby, all eyes were on the Grandmaster and his new consort. If anyone connected the woman on the Grandmaster’s arm with the cheeky gladiator from the day before, they didn’t say anything. Loki greeted every person clamoring for the Grandmaster’s attention, carefully memorizing as much as she could. If she was going to gain control of this world, she was going to need to know the lay of the land and where to put pressure.

A worried-looking Krylorian man got the Grandmaster’s attention, and he excused himself, leaving Loki at the bar. She ordered a drink and cast a simple spell that would allow her to listen in on the Grandmaster’s conversation.

“No, the big bottle.”

Loki almost didn’t catch the voice beside her at the bar, so intent was she on the intriguing conversation playing out between the Grandmaster and what Loki realized was one of his spies. She looked over to smile at Scrapper-142, who had doffed her leathers for a tight, long-sleeved sequined dress. Loki couldn’t help but admire her. Now that the scrapper wasn’t capturing her, she had to admit she was beautiful.

Scrapper-142 looked over at Loki as she took a long draught from her bottle. She put the bottle down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Haven’t seen you around.” Her eyes cast over Loki’s body, and Loki could see both appreciation and wariness in her look. “Surprised the Grandmaster let you out of his sight.”

“He’ll be back soon,” Loki said. “In the meantime, I’ll just enjoy your charming company.”

142’s eyes lit up. “Oooh, you’re a dangerous one, alright? I like living too much to flirt with one of the Grandmaster’s courtesans.” Belying her words, she winked at Loki and took another drink.

“Who said we were flirting? I prefer drinking.” Loki said, actually enjoying the scrapper’s company despite herself. She didn’t even really like the other woman, considering their very short past, but she couldn’t deny she was charming.

142 laughed and clinked her bottle against Loki’s glass. “Now you’re speaking my language. Name’s Scrapper-142. What’s your name, love?”

Loki smirked. “Would you like to guess?”

“Not particularly,” 142 said. “Though if I’d had to guess, I would guess… Scrap.”

Loki choked on her drink, and 142 laughed. “You think you’re sly, do you? I heard the Grandmaster introduce you.”

“And you sent me the money I secured for you,” Loki said, recovering. “Now, I have to wonder why you care so much.”

“I don’t care, and I didn’t ask for you to bargain your price up, Scrap.” She now cast a critical view over Loki. “Though I can’t say you don’t look worth it. Looking well… kept… these days.”

“Not quite the arena death you’d envisioned,” Loki said, finishing her drink. “And you still haven’t answered my question. That lie about not caring… it’s hard to lie to me. In some places I’m known as the God of Lies.”

142 looked at her sharply, and Loki wondered why she would have reacted so strongly. “Listen, you little weasel,” 142’s voice dripped venom. “I keep my distance. I joke around and flirt with the Grandmaster, and I bring him things and, yes, people, but that’s all. I don’t get involved. As soon as I knew you were going to be around for a while, in a deeply involved way, I wanted to be completely quits with you. That includes no debt.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job of staying uninvolved. I particularly like the way you were chatting me up,” Loki said, enjoying the frustrated look on 142’s face. Then she looked away as the Grandmaster’s meeting with his spy ended. Loki noted where the spy was headed and put down the glass. “If you’ll excuse me…”

142 spluttered. “We’re not finished, Scrap.”

Loki was already making her way through the crowd, casually taking a sharp knife from the hors d’oeuvres table. She wouldn’t have much time to do this, and the Grandmaster would surely want her company soon. She positioned herself at a corner and waited for the spy to pass, and then she grabbed him by the arm and pushed him into the coat room.

“Wha…” the stocky Krylorian flinched away from Loki, noting the vivid blue of her dress. “Excuse me, miss, I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean a lot of things,” Loki said, and with one hand pinned the man to the wall while holding the knife to his throat. She put in a little extra pressure on the blade and enjoyed the look of dawning panic on the man’s face. “But I do think you meant to lie to the Grandmaster.”

“No… I…” the man said, his pink face turning even pinker.

“Or did you think I couldn’t tell? Do you think the Grandmaster wouldn’t find out?” Loki said, giving her voice a hard edge. “You told the Grandmaster that his dear cousin Carlos was trying to find a way off Sakaar alone. Now, we both know that’s not true.”

“Come on… Carlos just wants to escape…” the spy said. “And what do you know of it? You’re just a courtesan.”

“Is that what you think?” Loki said, her voice light and conversational. She nicked the man’s throat, and he froze. “Do you really think you’re the only spy in the Grandmaster’s employ. You’re not even a particularly good one.”

“I swear,” the man said, desperation in his voice. “I’m telling the Grandmaster the truth.”

“You know, the lies bore me when I’m not the one speaking them,” Loki said. “Now, you’ve got a choice. Tell me the truth and then apologize to the Grandmaster for lying to him, or…” She sliced the side of the man’s neck, and he actually started crying.

“You’re crazy,” he said. “He’ll kill me.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That’s better than what I’d do.” She smirked and put her hand on the man’s head, and put a vision there. As he stared in horror at his worst memories realized, Loki clicked her tongue. “Oh, that’s the worst you can imagine? I can do much better…”

Minutes later, the man was practically running to the Grandmaster, causing a scene as the crowd parted to allow him to throw himself on the ground.

“I’m sorry…” he sobbed out, “I lied. Please forgive me, Grandmaster, please…”

The chime sounded to begin the second act of the opera, but no one moved. The Grandmaster looked around irritatedly and waved them off. The lobby emptied immediately, all except Topaz next to the Grandmaster, as well as Loki and Scrapper-142 at the bar. Even the bartender left, so Loki helped herself to a drink. She looked like she hadn’t left the bar the whole time.

“Now,” the Grandmaster said, almost kindly, “you say you want to tell me the truth. That’s wonderful! Fire away.”

The man gulped and looked over at the bar, where Loki gave a cheerful wave.

“I… ah… I said Carlos was trying to get off the planet by himself, but that’s… that’s not true. He’s planning… he’s planning…” the man started gasping for breath. The cuts around his throat trickled blood.

“Slowly… slowly…” the Grandmaster muttered. “Take your time, but not too much time.”

“He’s planning to smuggle something off planet,” the spy said. “I don’t know what, I swear, but he’s trying to get a bulk cruiser. Reinforced, so whatever’s he’s smuggling is big.”

The Grandmaster bent down in front of the man and petted his hair, causing the man to sob harder. “And why would Carlos want something of mine?”

“It’s not for him,” the man said, and they could barely make out what he was saying by this point. “It’s for your broth…”

Before he could get a word out, the Grandmaster grabbed a large stick from Topaz and touched it to the spy. The man literally melted there on the floor, becoming a pile of flesh, which then turned into a putrid liquid. Both the Grandmaster and Topaz stepped back to avoid the remains, and Loki and Scrapper-142 coughed at the fumes.

The Grandmaster huffed. “Well, that was a mistake. I lost my temper! That’s not what I meant to do at all. I’m so embarrassed. Topaz, get this taken care of. Loki, my dear, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” He held out a hand to her, and then spotted 142. “Scrapper-142! I didn’t notice you there. Would you be an absolute dear and track down everyone he knew?”

“You got it, boss,” 142 said, still giving a wary look at Loki. She made short work of her third bottle and slammed it down on the counter before leaving.

“Loki, I’m terribly sorry you had to see that,” the Grandmaster said, holding a hand out to her. “Your hair… it got all mussed up, you’ll have to be more careful…” That’s when he saw the blood on Loki’s hands.

Loki steeled herself. There was the danger that the Grandmaster wouldn’t appreciate her interfering or overstepping her bounds. There was also the danger that the news would be so bad that the Grandmaster would blame the messenger, and not just the spy.

What Loki saw instead was surprise and lust, and she smiled. Just what she was aiming for.

“You… ah… you got any other surprises for me?” the Grandmaster said, his voice husky.

Loki smirked. “I may have a few.”

 

* * *

 

  
By the time they got to the Grandmaster’s suite, Loki’s hair was hanging down, still half in pins, and she’d lost a shoe. The Grandmaster laughed heartily as Loki kicked the other one off into the hallway, tripping a servant.

They’d been making out desperately on the way there, but as soon as the door closed the Grandmaster’s tone changed entirely. He pressed Loki against the wall, but his kiss was achingly tender, and his caresses threatened to melt Loki just like the spy.

“You’re being awfully quiet for someone who just uncovered a traitor in my own staff,” the Grandmaster said. “I wonder how you did it.”

Loki smiled. “Do you really want the details? Now?”

The Grandmaster kissed the hand that had gotten blood on it and smiled. “No… I guess not.”

With a flourish, Loki made her dress vanish, revealing the lace bra and thong set underneath, both in the Grandmaster’s preferred blue and purple. She reached up to take out the pins out of her hair, but the Grandmaster stopped her and did it himself, careful not to pull her hair, all the while keeping his eyes on her. It was intense to the point of being uncomfortable, and Loki broke eye contact to kiss the Grandmaster’s neck.

“You’re, ah, you’re shaking, Loki,” the Grandmaster murmured. “Not still tired? Or rattled from your interrogation?”

“No,” Loki said quickly. She smiled and laughed. “Would you believe it’s been a while?”

“How long?”

Loki thought back and made a face. “Six years?”

“Oh, honey, you poor thing.” He ghosted his fingers over her nipple, sending what felt like electricity right through her. “Let me take care of you. You did ask me to show you a good time.”

Loki had planned on doing much of the work—it was technically her job now—but the Grandmaster lifted her easily, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carried her across the room to his bed. He ran his hands over her body and pulled the thong off as he did so. It wasn’t until he’d hoisted her legs over his shoulders that she realized what he was doing.

Loki cried out at the feel of the Grandmaster’s mouth on her, and it was almost too much, too soon, but the Grandmaster was slow and careful. His tongue swirled around her clit, but not touching it, leaving her gasping with need. His hot breath against her aching cunt, the wonderful sliding sensation that became more intense as he picked up the pace. Fuck… this was…

She gripped the sheets, a little embarrassed at how vocal she was being, but the Grandmaster seemed encouraged by her cries and moans, so she didn’t feel the need to rein them in too much. Her entire lower half felt like it was on fire, and as it got more intense, the Grandmaster pushed two fingers in and curled them upwards.

Loki bucked helplessly, riding out her orgasm and thinking absently about how she was fucking the face of one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. She laughed a bit wildly, and didn’t stop until the Grandmaster crawled back up to her, pressing up against her side.

“We’re feeling better, are we?” he said. His gaze on Loki was intense, but this time she didn’t shy away from it.

“You have no idea,” Loki murmured, throwing an arm around his chest.

“I may have some,” the Grandmaster said. He wrapped his arm around to Loki’s back, undoing her bra clasp and slipping it off. “I’ve been through dry spells myself. It’s not, ah, not something I recommend.” He captured a nipple in his mouth, and she arched into his touch.

He moved his hand down, and Loki realized he was going to touch her again, and she spread her legs and let him. His fingers were rougher than his tongue had been, the delightful friction bringing the pleasure into more focused clarity. His touch was slow, teasing, and he moved his hand away whenever she thrust up.

“You’re not very patient, are you?” the Grandmaster commented.

“Six… years…” Loki gasped. She whimpered when his finger skated over just the right place on her clit, only to move away.

“Oh, I know,” the Grandmaster murmured into her hair. “But we’re in no rush… I mean, we have all night, don’t we? Relax, princess. I’ll take care of you.”

He kissed her mouth—she could taste herself on him—and began building a rhythm. It was an excruciating sort of pleasure, and she moaned into his mouth as he brought her to the edge, and then eased off. She growled in frustration, and he chuckled and picked up the pace again. After a time—Loki had lost all sense of time, and time was weird on Sakaar anyway—the pleasure reached a sharp point, and Loki rocked into the Grandmaster, and he held her steady as her body convulsed.

Loki laid gasping, almost dizzy with the sensation, when she realized the Grandmaster had not removed his hand. In fact, he was pushing two fingers into her, fucking her while her cunt was still convulsing. Loki responded immediately, thrusting her hips to meet his fingers. His mouth went to her nipple, and he nipped, causing Loki to shriek and buck helplessly, riding out yet another orgasm.

Loki rested, shivering slightly, her whole body pounding from the remembered pleasure. She felt the Grandmaster’s erection pressed against her thigh, and she knew she needed to stir and do something about that, but that involved moving, and she couldn’t quite manage to do that yet.

The Grandmaster was stroking her damp curls absently, but Loki didn’t think anything of it until he whispered into her ear, “Turn over, love.”

Loki was startled, and must have shown it on her face, because the Grandmaster grinned cockily. Not entirely sure of his intention, she did as he asked, allowing him to shift her thighs apart.

“You know, you’re just so pretty, I swear I could eat you up. In fact, I think I will!”

Loki was about to groan at the weak joke when she gasped sharply and clung to the sheets. The Grandmaster was now licking and and kissing her ass, then pushing her cheeks apart to go deeper. Pleasure rocketed through her body from all new stimulations, and all she could do was hold on and experience.

The Grandmaster paused, and she just prevented herself from sobbing at the loss of contact, but her returned quickly with something slick that smelled somewhat fruity. A few hesitant strokes, and then one finger entered her. Then, after a few minutes, two, stretching her pleasantly and filling her up.

It was different from when she was male, a different kind of pleasure, but no less overwhelming. Loki shuddered helplessly as the Grandmaster played with her, toyed with her, seeming completely content to wring every last possible moan and shudder of pleasure out of her. She was actually nearing completion when he eased three fingers from his other hand into her pussy, making her too full… it was too much…

Loki thought that was the end once he’d withdrawn his hands, both entrances now sore from the stimulation, but then the Grandmaster slipped her over and immediately buried his face in her already dripping cunt. She didn’t even know what noises or words or pleas or professions were coming out of her mouth, only that she was being pushed to the edge, the pleasure mixing with exquisite pain now, and Loki started to wonder if this would never end, if he would keep on pushing her and pushing her, and she was coming again, despite all odds…

At the end of it, she felt wrung out, shuddering in the Grandmaster’s embrace. She’d never… never… had attention paid to her quite like that. Never had anything bring her off so many times that she was well and truly spent. He was chuckling and drinking something golden and sparkling, and he offered Loki the rest, which she drank greedily. Loki kissed him, and he caressed her face gently, then her lips. She smiled. She got the message.

Loki kissed her way down the Grandmaster’s body, until she got to his cock, which looked painfully hard. As much as he’d been pleasuring her and pushing her, the Grandmaster must have been suffering. Loki ran her hands lightly over it, fairly enjoying the fact that it was now the Grandmaster’s turn to be a bit vocal.

She lightly took the head of his cock in her mouth and kissed it softly, then more intensely. The Grandmaster wove his hands in her hair, but didn’t pull, allowing her to set the pace. She relaxed her throat and let his cock go in deep. A few thrusts, and he was coming in her mouth, the grip in her hair finally painful as they rode it out together.

Loki swallowed and laid next to the Grandmaster, exhausted and spent. They breathed together, enjoying the moment of peace.

“That was good, just really good,” the Grandmaster said, and Loki realized he’d actually not spoken for a while. “I like you like this… I think I’d like you the other way, too.”

Loki would have preferred to experience the afterglow a little while longer, but she instead shifted into her male form. It was Loki’s favorite trick, a sort of libido reset. He had promised, after all.

The Grandmaster laughed and patted Loki’s thigh. “Not tonight, sweetheart. This… ah… what you brought to my attention. I need to look into it. You can make it back to your room?”

Loki effectively hid his disappointment. He had no illusions that he would be allowed to sleep in the Grandmaster’s bed, and, really, the Grandmaster had been more than generous with his time and attention. It’s not as if he expected cuddling.

“Of course,” he said smoothly, and kissed the Grandmaster before getting up and collecting his things. He conjured a robe around himself and tried to make as dignified an exit as possible. “Good night, Grandmaster.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the Grandmaster said, his voice somewhat distant.

Loki went to his room, but only long enough to get cleaned up and change into some dark simple clothing. If we was going to gain some influence, he couldn’t do that by lounging around. He had information to get, and he could do that best out on the streets. Trusting that the Grandmaster would have no more need of him that night, he slipped out to truly explore Sakaar.


	3. The Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I watched Infinity War... Anyway, here's a Ragnarok fic in which Loki is fucked by the Grandmaster and somehow Captain America is involved.

 

Loki leaned against a pillar in the far outskirts of the city of Sakaar. It was dark, only lit from the Grandmaster’s tower far to the left and the ambient energy from the sky portals far to the right. Loki pulled some of the darkness to himself, knowing if anyone saw him they would assume he was one of the many homeless people on Sakaar and would give him no mind.

“Everything I’ve got is on Sakaar,” whined a high, tremulous voice. “You want me to give all that up, just so I can drive that boat…?”

“Everything you own?” a deep, smooth voice countered. “Scraps and tatters compared to what he’ll pay. And you’ll be free of this place.”

“No one leaves Sakaar,” the high voice said, the oft-repeated mantra here.

“Some do,” the smooth voice answered. “It’s not impossible, just tricky.”

Loki checked to see no one was around and made himself invisible. He floated like a ghost into the alley. He’d have to memorize their faces. He couldn’t kill everyone working against the Grandmaster, or they’d scurry into their holes and he’d have no information.

The man with the smooth voice, dressed in scrapper leathers, had the burly woman cornered. She didn’t look as afraid as her voice sounded, though, and Loki realized that what he’d taken for whining and recalcitrance was a bargaining ploy. The scrapper man looked impatient, so the negotiations were going her way.

“You’ve given me dreams of gold,” the burly woman said. “Not much else. What am I going to leave my family when I get killed?”

The man rolled his eyes. “I can get you three thousand credits, but no more. It’s not like they’re worth anything out there.” He pointed to the portals.

“Not taking it with me,” the women said, her voice becoming brisk after the credits transferred. “Like I said, what’s going to take care of my family? They’re not coming with me.”

The man grumbled, but the woman slapped her hand on his back. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “When’s the explosion?”

The man shushed her nervously. “I don’t know. You’ll get a signal. We don’t want this information getting out.”

“I’ll have the boat there, but someone else has to keep that thing under control,” the woman said. “I’m crazy, but I’m not suicidal.”

The two parted, and as they did Loki marked both of them with magic. He’d be able to track them and send copies of himself to observe them now.

He became visible again and landed on the ground, jarring his knees accidentally. He put a hand on the corrugated metal wall. He was exhausted, his magic still recovering, and he hadn’t exactly been stingy in expending it. He’d explored more of the city that night, from the affluent neighborhoods connected to the tower to the gambling rings around the arena to the slums he now haunted. The city was a web of greed and debauchery and conspiracy. It was a power keg, kept in tenuous control only by fear of the Grandmaster’s name.

In other words, a land of opportunity.

Loki dragged himself to his room and barely got his clothes off before collapsing on the bed and sleeping soundly. He didn’t wake until there was a discreet chime at the door, hours later, and breakfast was wheeled in by someone he didn’t recognize. The servant didn’t blink at his nudity and left with only a few bare pleasantries.

He attacked the food, wondering if he was ever going to eat a meal outside of his bed. Once the hunger pangs subsided, Loki finally examined the two notes on his breakfast tray: one of crisp, sealed parchment, the other of hastily folded cheap paper.

He opened the parchment first—it was obviously from the Grandmaster—in case he needed to hurry somewhere. It wouldn’t do to miss one of his summons and get on his bad side when their relations were beginning so promisingly. It read as such, in jumbled, barely readable script.

_My charming little screamer,_

_You’re still recovering from last night, I know, my lovers sometimes can’t get out of bed for a week but darling I need your help in interrogation so would you be a peach and meet me in the east corridor this afternoon Jade can tell you where._

_Grandmaster_

Loki read it a few times, eye twitching at the grammar. When he knew he’d interpreted it correctly, he laughed, falling backwards on the bed in glee. So the Grandmaster saw him as an asset, not just as a piece of ass. And he’d be in on interrogation, so he’d collect more information for his own purposes. It was almost too easy.

Still on his back, Loki cast his hand down to the tray and grabbed the other note. The ink was smudged a bit at the creases, but the flowing script was much easier to read. It also helped that the note was shorter:

_Scrap,_

_Saw you out last night. Not your job. Stick to the tower, and don’t think I won’t tell on you._

_142_

Loki glared at the note. He knew she’d been out that night, but how was she able to spot him when he didn’t want to be spotted? She wasn’t just some scrapper, that much was obvious. Whether she’d be an asset or a hindrance was to be seen.

Not that it mattered. Loki had to plan for that afternoon. He put the notes in his bedside table and went to draw a bath.

The conspiracy against the Grandmaster involved Carlos, a dead spy, a rogue scrapper, and a driver. There would be more. The promise of escape from Sakaar and vague riches and justified grievances against the Grandmaster would draw people in. They would need someone close to whatever item (“thing,” the driver had called it, and an uncontrollable one at that) they were trying to steal. Probably someone in security. A few expendable dupes, ones who could absorb the Grandmaster’s ire while the others escaped.

Escape… that was an option. Loki could ingratiate himself to the conspirators and join them in their escape. Just because Loki was in a particularly comfortable position at the moment (and several comfortable positions the night before) didn’t mean he was any less of a slave. He was trying to use the system in his favor, but the fact that he’d been bought and sold, placed in the arena, groomed like a pet… He had to work to not think too hard about it. Two people had called him a courtesan the night before. That was, in fact, the nicest possible word for it. He’d be well justified in trying to escape, no matter how well he was treated.

Loki closed his eyes, knowing that he was going to stay, and that he’d take down the conspiracy to prevent any escape that would bring attention to this little isolated world. As long as he was here, he was beyond the Mad Titan’s grasp. In prison, and then presumed dead and masquerading as Odin, he’d been safe. But now Asgard was no longer safe, and so Sakaar had to be a secondary hiding place. Should Thanos catch up with him…

Loki shuddered, cold despite the heat of the water. He’d been hiding for so long, but he hadn’t forgotten the tortures, the mind games, the dreadful promises… No. Escape from Sakaar was no escape for him.

He rose from the bath, newly determined. He had a few leads to follow, and he didn’t have a lot of time. The conspirators had mentioned an explosion, but not where and when. He assumed the explosion would act as a distraction. No, the actual theft would be more subtle, unless the conspirators were complete dullards.

He glanced at the softer, more sensual clothes, but they felt wrong. Instead, he put on the blue leather outfit with the cape, feeling much more like himself than he had in days.

  
\--

  
Jade looked coldly down the east corridor. “I’m not going in there. You’ll find him second door on the right.”

Loki glanced down the corridor. It didn’t look that much different from the rest of the tower, though perhaps a certain starkness and Jade’s reaction made it seem more ominous.

“I take it you don’t approve,” Loki said.

Jade tossed her head, and her elaborate hairstyle bobbed restlessly in response. “I have no opinion. It’s bloody work in there, and I like my sleep too much to disturb it with what I might see.”

“Perhaps tonight will be more pleasant.”

Jade smirked. “It should. The Grandmaster wants to go clubbing.”

“See you on the dance floor, then.”

Loki approached the door slowly once Jade had left, hoping to pick up any information not intended for his ears. It was completely quiet, even though the door was cracked enough that soundproofing wouldn’t account for eery silence. Shrugging, Loki walked in.

The Grandmaster stood before a semicircle of chairs, each one hovering above the ground, and each one containing a person. An older woman who was crying steadily, a few scrapper men (neither of which were the one he’d seen talking to the driver in the alley), a gladiator, and a defiant teenage boy. They all looked scared and confused, and one of the scrapper men looked like he’d been taken in the middle of shaving. They all had obedience disks lodged in their necks.

The Grandmaster’s eye was twitching. “They won’t talk,” he complained as soon as Loki got to his side.

Loki held in a sigh. The Grandmaster liked to think that everyone around him wanted to be there, that they were having a good time. This didn’t exactly translate to good interrogation techniques. If the person didn’t volunteer information from fear or loyalty, he didn’t know what to do. He was good at making people feel uncertain and off-balance, though Loki wondered if that wasn’t just his personality, but he wasn’t good at manipulating people when they didn’t want to be manipulated.

Thankfully, Loki excelled at that.

“Grandmaster, a word?” he said, gesturing to the door.

In the hallway, the Grandmaster looked more relaxed. “It’s… ah… usually so much easier,” the Grandmaster said with an embarrassed smile. “People don’t keep things from me like this.”

Loki glanced at the closed door. “They’re terrified. They have no incentive to tell you anything, Grandmaster. Do you trust me to gather the information you need?”

“They’re all yours,” the Grandmaster gestured to the door.

Loki shook his head. “Forgive me, Grandmaster, but… not there. I need not interrogate all of them. I wish to speak with the youngest one, but only after he’s seen that the older woman has been released unharmed. She’s obviously a mother figure to him, from the way he looks at her. I also need to meet him in a neutral place, a room that’s closer to the tower exit, so he’ll feel more at ease.”

There was a small, knowing smile playing on the Grandmaster’s lips, and Loki wondered if he was as incompetent with interrogation as he was letting on, or if he was simply testing Loki.

“Topaz, arrange everything like Loki said.” The dour woman seemingly materialized out of nowhere, glared at Loki, but nodded and barged into the room. “There’s been a mistake, you’re free to go. We’ll have a word with your son…”

The Grandmaster led Loki away from the room, pointing out a few places for interrogation. Loki finally settled on what looked like a rest area for partiers. The furnishing was simple, and the simple bar stocked juice as well as alcohol. There was a table where Loki could talk to him without being too threatening.

“I guess I shouldn’t be here,” the Grandmaster said, “but I’ll still be watching. Impress me?” He held Loki’s face, running his thump over his cheekbone.

Loki leaned into the touch. “I’ll give you a show.”

Loki expected a kiss, but instead the Grandmaster pulled back and left with a wink. He took a breath and, with a flourish, changed his outfit to a less intimidating tunic and trousers, an outfit he’d seen as standard in the streets of Sakaar.

The young man walked in soon after, looking wary but perhaps less angry than he had been in the interrogation room. Loki smiled upon his entering. “My name is Loki. I’m so sorry for all the inconvenience you’ve suffered. There’s been a terrible mistake, but I hope you can help me set it right.”

The teen scowled and threw himself into a chair. “I got nothing to say.”

Loki smiled thinly and went to the bar. He pulled out two bottles, one of carbonated fruit juice and one that looked like beer. He held out both for the boy to choose and, scowling, the boy chose the beer.

Loki set the beer in front of the boy. “I’ve given my name. What’s yours?”

The boy looked narrowly at Loki, but then gave a shrug. “Name’s Jin.”

“That was your mother, Jin, was it not?” Loki said as the teen took his first tentative swig.

Jin hesitated, still belligerent. “Yeah? What of it? You threatening her?”

Loki put his hands up in a calming gesture. “Of course not. Like I said, Jin, this was a mistake. Your mother is completely safe, and you’ll join her soon. The Grandmaster wanted information, not to endanger any citizen of Sakaar.”

Jin looked like he was about to laugh, but he clammed up. Not a good idea to laugh about the Grandmaster in his own tower.

“I know she’s important to you. My mother was so important to me, and I understand you would do anything to protect her.”

Jin looked over his beer bottle. “Was?”

Loki smiled sadly. “She died. Somewhat my fault. I allowed her murderer to escape, told him how to escape. I never expected…” Loki broke off, only partly for show. He recovered. “If your mother is in danger, it’s not from the Grandmaster. It’s from the one who implicated both of you in the first place.”

Jin held his bottle loosely, forgetting that it was there. “Uncle Sid. They said he was dead, died last night. I say he’s my uncle… just through marriage.” Jin frowned.

“He did,” Loki said hesitantly. “Jin, he was planning something awful. Some kind of attack that would hurt people, and he wasn’t alone. I need to know who he was meeting with.”

“He was planning to steal something,” Jin said, eyes wide. He was scared, but not for himself anymore. “From the arena, but they needed a distraction. And a lot of tranquilizers. He kept meeting with people in our back room.”

“Can you name any of the people he talked to? Here,” Loki gave him a pen and paper, and the boy immediately went to work writing. Loki didn’t recognize any of the names, but they’d be easy to find.

“I just don’t want any of these fuckers getting to my mom,” Jin said. “Uncle Sid always got into all sorts of dangerous shit when he worked for the Grandmaster, but this was bad. Really bad. I just don’t…”

“I will see to it personally,” Loki said. “Is there a place where you and your mother can stay? It might be safer.”

“Yeah… thank you,” Jin said, all belligerence a distant memory.

Loki put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Protect your mother, as I could not protect mine.”

The boy left, scared but hopeful. Loki changed back to his leather and read the paper, committing it to memory as quickly as he could.

The Grandmaster was waiting for him on the way to the east corridor, and he practically pounced on the piece of paper. He glanced at it, and then handed it to Topaz, who swept away, on a mission. “That was… that was wonderful, Loki. I can see what you meant by incentive.”

Loki frowned. The Grandmaster looked worried, angry. He’d obviously gotten more out of the interrogation than Loki had.

“Thank you, Grandmaster. This… this is promising,” Loki said, drawing near the Grandmaster but not touching him. “Whatever’s being stolen, we’ll be able to head off the conspiracy before they even get a chance.”

The Grandmaster smiled sadly. “Was that, ah, true? About your mother?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that,” Loki said. “Sometimes the best way to get information out of someone is to open up to them, make them think that you’re vulnerable. Even those who are expecting it will fall for it.”

“You have some experience with that.”

Loki’s eye twitched. “Perhaps. Did you get what you needed, Grandmaster?”

The Grandmaster closed his eyes. “I did. Say, let’s get out of here. So much stress, so much work, we need a spa day. I’m in dire need of a mani-pedi. Look, my nails are practically ragged!”

Loki took the deflection in stride. Something was upsetting the Grandmaster, something about what was being stolen or who was stealing it or both. The Grandmaster might tell him, but in his own time.

  
\--

  
There were plenty of places to dance to loud music in the Grandmaster’s tower. In fact, the Grandmaster had entire wings just dedicated to that. But if the Grandmaster wanted to go clubbing, it meant leaving the tower and going to the tiny, dark dance clubs that dotted the city of Sakaar.

They were at the third club, and Loki sank gratefully into a couch. He loved drinking and dancing, but his tastes tended to run a little quieter. He was just about reaching his limit of the amount of noise he could take when he whispered in the Grandmaster’s ear that it was such a shame that the club’s DJ lacked his talent. The Grandmaster had immediately run up to the turntable, shooed the perfectly serviceable DJ from his post, and announced that it was now the Grandmaster’s party. Leaving Loki to steal a few precious minutes alone.

He watched Jade and Agate hop on stage and begin dancing to the driving beat, and the club’s patrons seemed infected by the new feverish tone of the music. Then Loki closed his eyes, letting his attention drift.

“Is he going a bit fast for you, darling?” Scrapper-142 plonked herself down on the couch beside Loki and handed him a bottle. “If you slept instead of wandering the city at night, you’d keep up better.”

Loki smiled thinly and raised the bottle to her. “Here’s to not getting involved. You’re doing such a fine job at it.”

“Threatening that spy into confession, wandering the city looking for clues,” 142 ticked with her fingers, “conducting an interrogation. One would think you’re after my job.”

“As a slaver? Hardly,” he sneered. “But, then, that’s not all you do for the Grandmaster, is it?” He marked the blue of her scrapper leathers, a color worn by none of the other scrappers he’d seen. “You’re one of his favorites as well.”

“Like I said, I just flirt. Otherwise, I find what needs finding and do what needs doing. I’ve been here a long time,” 142 said. “And I’m the best at what I do.”

“I’ve been here a few days,” Loki countered, “and so am I.”

142 laughed at that, and Loki couldn’t help but join in.

“Do whatever you want, then,” 142 said. “You might get yourself killed and out of my hair. That would be just fine, so long as you don’t get in my way.”

“I don’t intend to… Seriously, what can I call you that’s not a numerical designation,” Loki said, taking a drink. He was halfway through the bottle she’d given him, and she was finishing her second. What was she made of? “It’s terribly awkward, and I should think we’re past that.”

142 regarded Loki suspiciously, obviously wondering if it was worth engaging with him. Then she shrugged. “I sometimes go by Val.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Real name?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who remembers real names anymore, Scrap?”

“My name is Loki, you know.”

“Alright, Lackey.” She laughed. “You know, that is a more fitting name for you. The Grandmaster’s lackey.”

Loki’s eye twitched. He saw the humor in her jab, but he didn’t particularly want to acknowledge it. Being someone’s lackey… he’d had a taste of that before. He didn’t particularly like that he was repeating the experience, even if the company was far more pleasant.

Val raised her eyes to the edge of the stage and nodded. “Looks like you’re being summoned, lackey.”

He gritted his teeth and got up, but the Grandmaster motioned for him to stay and instead directed his gaze to Val.

“It looks like you’re the one being summoned, Val,” Loki said with a mocking tone.

She tossed him a glare, slammed her bottle on the table, and then stalked up to the Grandmaster. They talked seriously for several minutes, the Grandmaster using several hand gestures, but Loki was too exhausted to listen in. Too much interference and he was drained already, especially with his doubles following the two conspirators he’d tagged the night before.

Val left, her grim expression showing that the Grandmaster had sent her on a mission. It rankled Loki that she probably knew more about the conspiracy than he did. That would need to change.

The Grandmaster swept over to Loki, the dancers at the club scrambling to get out of his way. Loki finished his drink and got up, preparing to dance or whatever the Grandmaster had in mind.

“I’m starving, love, really this is just great but I find I need to eat my feelings and I know just the place.”

  
\--

  
The bakery was closing, but they immediately opened their doors to the Grandmaster, where he proceeded to give a ludicrously large order of pastries and cakes, all to be delivered to his suite at the tower. Jade and Agate arrived just in time to calm the panicking bakery owners and promised the Grandmaster that they’d handle the transaction. Loki assumed they were going to modify the order, as it was more food than any person could ever eat and, if made fresh, would take hours. This entire transaction seemed to be rather common, from the way Jade and Agate were handling it.

“You’re going to need to distract him, Loki,” Agate whispered in his ear before they left. “He’s angry and depressed, and we don’t want him in the mood for public executions.”

“I had gathered, actually,” Loki whispered back. “Rest easy. I have a plan.”

When they got to the suite, Loki went straight to the bar to mix some drinks. The Grandmaster boredly shifted through his playlist, only letting each song play for a few seconds before going to the next one. Agate was right. The Grandmaster was a being of unfathomable age and power, but when he was depressed he was just like anyone else. Restless and driven to self-destructive comfort. Loki would have to focus his attention.

Loki gave the Grandmaster his drink and waited for a song with a sultry beat to come on. He didn’t have to wait long, as that seemed to be half the Grandmaster’s playlist. As soon as a likely song came on, Loki stilled the Grandmaster’s hand, who looked startled, like he’d forgotten Loki was there. Loki smiled seductively and got up, moving in time with the beat.

He was no longer wearing the leather outfit, but a glossy wraparound tunic of greenish blue and deep purple trousers. He loosened the tunic as he moved so more of his chest showed, and he dragged his nails—manicured and painted purple—to draw more attention. The Grandmaster sat up in his seat, drink forgotten, as Loki tugged the tunic open even more as he moved to the pole in the middle of the room.

The tempo from the song picked up, and Loki swung around the pole, winking at the Grandmaster to let him know this was the show. He flipped his hair and, keeping his hands on the pole, twisted and pivoted sensually, coming out of his tunic in the process. He tossed it to the Grandmaster, who caught it, seeming thoroughly entranced by the performance.

The trousers were a bit tight for sexy removal, so he made them vanish just as he took a firm hold of the pole and pulled himself up, wrapping his legs around it as he continued to spin. He flipped upside down, and then sideways, making it look easy. It wasn’t. He’d spent a year mastering this, after he’d gotten sick of his father pestering him to physically train rather than just rely on magic. His father had not been amused.

The lights started flashing different colors; the Grandmaster had finally gotten into the spirit of things and was providing atmosphere. Loki winked at him and redoubled his efforts, and then decided to spice things up. He was tired, but he could still shapeshift, so he decided to work in his own fantasy. In the middle of a spin, his shoulders broadened, his muscles expanded, his hair turned short and blonde, and he knew his face was taking on the wholesome yet chiseled appearance of a certain Steve Rogers, Captain America himself.

The Grandmaster actually clapped at that one, and Loki took a bow.

“And who is this sumptuous creature?” the Grandmaster said. He’d crossed the room and was running his hands lightly over Loki’s chest.

Loki smiled. “Captain Rogers at your service,” he said in a low, emphatic voice, nodding.

“A friend of yours…?”

Loki’s eye twitched. “Of my brother’s.” He smirked, an expression that probably didn’t suit Steve’s earnest face. “He once lectured me while I was trying to take over his planet.”

“Do you… ah… have crushes on all of your brother’s friends? Or just the pretty ones?”

“You could say that.” Steve’s voice was more abrupt than Loki’s, so it was harder to twist the meanings of words. He’d never thought too hard about his various attractions, especially the ones who were so unavailable.

“Then how about we give you a treat, since you’ve been just so lovely tonight.” With a wave of his hand, Loki was back in his own form, and he was now facing Steve Rogers’s devastating smile.

Loki wondered vaguely, as he launched himself at the Grandmaster, if he truly had control over any situation on Sakaar. It was the second time that he had planned to thorough seduce and ravish the Grandmaster, and now this being of incalculable age and wisdom was turning it all around again, giving Loki gifts that he didn’t even know he wanted.

Norns, even his scent had changed to Midgardian soap with just a hint of motorcycle grease. Surely a memory he’d plucked from Loki’s head.

Perhaps further sensing Loki’s fantasies, the Grandmaster walked Loki backward to the bed, kissing him thoroughly the whole time, and then laid him on the mattress. The Grandmaster, in Steve’s guise, was now shorter than Loki, but he was big, and his shoulders and muscles seemed to engulf Loki’s entire world.

The foreplay was short but thorough, leaving Loki trembling with need. The Grandmaster didn’t say much, obviously not wanting to break the illusion with poor attempts at impersonating a man he didn’t know. However, his touch, his little smiles, and then finally the feeling of penetration, slow, deliberate, were all what Loki had assumed were the hallmarks of sex with Captain America. All Loki could do was grab those shoulders and hang on, laughing slightly at how any of those Avengers would react to this spectacle.

After they were both spent, and the Grandmaster had changed back, smirking at Loki’s stunned and delighted look, there was a knock on the door.

“Ooh! Those would be the munchies. Come in and leave them on the table!” the Grandmaster called out, opening the door with a gesture.

Loki pulled the sheet around him, but the Grandmaster motioned him to stay and then grabbed a package of baked goods. Loki smiled and settled in. No, it didn’t look like he was going to eat anywhere but in bed any time soon.


End file.
